I Needn't See the Light to Chase It
by R-dude
Summary: Do you believe in chance? Are you a gambler, perhaps? Have you ever played with dice? No? Still, in the Wizarding World, is it really that weird for the dice to play with you?
1. Year 1

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all associated characters are the property of J. Rowling, Warner Bros and their associates. I make no claim and receive no profits through this work of fiction. Harry Potter and I grew up together, and it is with utmost respect to miss Rowling, Harry and their world that I write this.

**Notes:** Greetings! This here is not a normal fic. It's not even a fic, really. It's a series on challenges that I wrote over on the DLP forum that I thought some people may enjoy reading.

The challenge was called 'Roll your Harry Potter Adventure', and the thread was started by Xandrel. Basically, there are a series of questions about specific plot events, and six possible answers. Using an online random dice-roll site (or an actual dice) you construct your Harry Potter adventure and then have to do your best to connect your rolls so that they form a coherent plot. There were 9 rolls for Year 1, and each had progressively more outlandish possibilities.

Each chapter will cover a single year and there will be little to no detail. The goal of this challenge is to merely form a coherent timeline. It's not the pinnacle of my writing, but it was a fun exercise for the half-hour it took me to write. To write this story completely would take hundreds of thousands of words, and I currently have enough projects to not need that.

For the sake of not making this A/N huge, I won't post the questions here. Try and see if you can spot all 9 Roll Points. If you are curious about them, ask me in a review or a PM, or alternatively visit the DLP threat about it.

Without further procrastination, I present to you:

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><p><strong>~H~<strong>

**I Needn't See the Light to Chase It**

**Year 1**

**~A Harry Potter Adventure~**

**~H~**

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><p>The peace of Privet Drive is disturbed when Harry receives that weird letter. He is not allowed to open it, of course, since his aunt and uncle don't think anyone would send him a letter. Whoever it is from, both of them pale when reading it, and it gives Harry some satisfaction. If it were something bad for <em>him<em>, surely they would have said so, right?

A few days pass, and Harry has almost put the strange letter completely out of his mind, seeing as it is his birthday today. He received no acknowledgement from his relatives, but he gave himself a small birthday party in his room under the stairs, and he didn't really have any chores today, so it was a good day.

The peace of the good day is disturbed with the sharp rapping at the door. His aunt goes to open, and makes way for a woman of slightly advanced age, wearing a proper green dress and a stern pair of glasses. 'Stern' seemed to describe her rather well, Harry though, as he peaked from behind the door.

When his aunt asked the woman who she was and what she wanted, she replied that she was Professor Minerva Mcgonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry blinked, surely he must have misheard?

Looking directly at him now, the scary woman went on to say that she came to investigate on account of his letter having not been opened or replied to. She gave him another one, exactly the same save for the recipient adress, which read 'Hall' after the road and number.

Harry read the contents of the letter while the woman had a chat with his relatives. Uncle Vernon's angry protests were swiftly cut by a single of the woman's silent glares. She summarily informed them that she would be taking Harry to Diagon Alley, and would return in a few hours with his supplies.

Harry followed the scary woman in a daze. Hailing a taxy, she took him a corner of London, then through a bar called 'Leaky Cauldron'. She passed through the seedy establishment quickly, exchanging only a single greeting with the bartender.

Diagon Alley was, in a word, amazing. Harry was sure his neck would hurt with how fast it was swiveling, just to take everything in. The professor took pity on him and walked slower, but insisted on taking him through his shopping first and foremost, after a brief stop to the wizarding bank, Gringots. Goblins were weird, Harry thought, and somewhat funny.

On the way, there was a single store which drew Harry's attention and wouldn't let go. A store that sold supplies for a sport apparently called 'Quidditch'. Flying brooms were real! And they looked simply fascinating!

The professor sighed when she saw how vidly he was staring at the display, and muttered something about how he was 'just like the rest of them'. As Harry was looking, she greeted one kid nearby, already clad in Hogwarts robes.

"Greetings, mister Diggory."

"Hello, Professor McGonagall." The boy said.

"Would you mind keeping an eye on young Harry, here, while I go fetch his potions kit?"

"Certainly, professor. Mum and dad left me here for a while, so it's fine."

"I'll leave it to you, then." She nodded at him, and left.

Harry introduced himself to the boy, who in turn introduced himself as Cedric Diggory, soon to be third year in Hogwarts. He seemed a little starstruck for a few seconds, but quickly shook it off, saying how happy he was to meet him, before proceeding to explain, in detail, how Quidditch was played. He paid extra attention to the Seeker position, saying how proud he was to play Seeker for Hufflepuff, his House at Hogwarts.

At Harry's question, Cedric explained briefly the House system and the Quidditch cup. Fascinating. Harry resolved to play Quidditch. If possible, he wanted to be a Seeker, just like Cedric.

They spent a while in the store, browsing the various items while Cedric lamented the Nimbus 2000's absurd price tag.

When professor McGonagall returned, Harry bade Cedric a grudging goodbye, and the older boy promised to see him on the train and in the castle.

The last item they had to purchase, according to the professor, was a pet. Three kinds of animals were allowed, she told him, and took him to a pet store so he could choose.

All sorts of exotic and magical animals were in there. Harry was rather intimidated by them all, if he were honest. He couldn't even tell what half of them _were_. He stopped in front of the cage of a small, normal housecat. It was completely black, except for a small sport of white around its left eye. The cat opened a lazy eye, looked at him, and then closed it again.

"I'll have that one." He said, grinning. The professor gave him a beaming smile and bought him the cat as a birthday present. Harry was a little confused at her sudden cheer, but chalked it off to good luck.

Rufus and his supplies acquired, Harry and McGonagall left th Alley. She gave him his ticket and explained to him how to find Platform 9 & 3/4 on September the 1st, and several bits of trivia that he should know on taking care of a cat.

Harry thanked her profusely for all she had done. Before leaving, the professor had a talk with his relatives which he didn't get to witness, but after that she left. Strangely, after she left, his uncle insisted on him moving his things to Dudley's spare bedroom, ostensibly to give the cat some room because he didn't want to see it around the house.

September 1st arrived before he could realize when the days went by, spent familiarizing himself with his textbooks and Rufus. The cat quickly accepted him, and Harry felt all warm and fuzzy regarding his new friend.

His uncle drove him to the station and dumped him and his things there, not even saying goodbye. Rufus was perched on his shoulder, seeing as he was tiny enough that Harry barely felt the weight of the napping kitten.

Finding the platform was as simple as trying out each column to find the passage. After a couple of minutes of gaping at the train, Harry made his way inside. He was happy to see Cedric again, who introduced him to a couple of his friends and helped him get his trunk and other things inside a compartment. Cedric told him at which compartment he was staying and told him to visit whenever he wanted.

Left alone, Harry and Rufus became comfortable in the seats, having the compartment all to themselves.

A minute after the train's departure, the door opened, allowing entrance to a dark-skinned boy. They exchanged greetings and names. Blaise Zabini was a first year, like himself, and born in a magical family. He was what they apparently called 'a pureblood'. Harry himself was apparently a halfblood, even though both his parents were magical. Blaise explained the theory behind the terms, but Harry didn't really understand. When asked about his House of preference, Harry merely shrugged. Blaise prompted him to join him in Slytherin, where he had no doubt that he would go. Harry had no problem with that, as Blaise was the only first year he knew and he seemed friendly enough.

They chatted the ride away, only briefly interrupted by a weird girl looking for a frog. Apparently, Blaise was friends with several other people, but the compartment there was full and he had no desire to sit on a trunk or to be squeezed between others.

Hogwarts looked amazing, and the boat ride was perfect to showcase that. The great hall was intimidating, with the rows upon rows of older students staring at them.

When Harry's name was called, he walked up to the stool and nervously sat, the hat covering over half his head.

_'But where to put you ...'_ The Hat finished his monologue inside his head.

_'Maybe... Slytherin?'_ Harry whispered, hopeful.

_'Slytherin? I see ... yes, you have the drive, the ambition. And Slytherin will set you down the path for greatness. Yes, it better be ... '_"SLYTHERIN!" The last word was yelled, and a bewildered Harry jumped off the stool and went to the Slytherin table, where the students were cheering for him just like they had for everyone else.

True to his prediction, Blaise joined him at the Slytherin table and introduced him to his friends, Theodore and Daphne. Both seemed rather friendly, and the rest of the feast went famously as the first years got to talking and eating. Harry's conversation was interrupted by one Draco Malfoy, who proposed friendship in a rather formal manner, handshake and everything. Harry shook the hand, shrugging inwardly. Hey, one more friend, right?

Classes soon started, as Harry and his three friends explored the castle and struggled with classes. Malfoy, for all his offer of friendship, didn't really hung out with them much, preferring to stick to his two buddies and the Parkinson girl.

Harry, Blaise, Theodore and Daphne preferred to study together and head to classes as a group. Having already examined his textbooks, Harry was comfortable enough in his casting that he seemed to pick up spells faster than everybody else, though he simply attributed it to interest in classes, something that everyone else seemed to lack.

He almost had a deserter in his ranks, when Daphne discovered that she was in love with his cat, Rufus. The evil thing almost ditched him for her, too, but in the end he didn't. Rufus took to following him around the castle, though Harry had no idea where he went when he was in classes. Surprisingly, they never got in trouble with the caretaker, even when they were caught after curfew, that one time. The squib simply looked at Rufus, intently, and grunted for them to get back to their dormitory.

Things came to a head on Halloween, however, when professor Quirell burst into the Great Hall, mumbling something about a troll, before fainting. Harry and his friends followed the Prefects back to the Common Room, where they avidly exchanged progressively more outlandish theories on what was going on.

Everyone sobered up next morning, when professor Dumbledore announced that though the troll had been found by a gaggle of teachers and summarily dealt with, it had just enough time to corner a student in a bathroom. Said student was now in St Mungos hospital undergoing intensive treatment, and would not return for a while.

That sent chills down Harry's spine, who was feeling truly afraid for the first time since he arrived. He resolved to intensify his studying as well as his independent study. he never wanted to be in a situation that he could not deal with.

Christmas arrived and went, with all of Harry's friends deciding to stay at Hogwarts, solely to keep him company. It so moved Harry that he would have cried if he hadn't put on a brave face. It was the first big, nice act anyone had done for him since professor McGonagall bought him Rufus, and it gave the four of them the sort of unofficial confirmation that they were now close friends. Exactly what Harry had lacked all his life, so far. He resolved to always be there for them, no matter what they needed.

Even if Daphne plotted to steal Rufus away from him.

He received a pile of presents, from his friends in Slytherin, and several acquaintances in other houses, most notably Cedric and his 'Beginner's Guide to Quidditch'.

Curiously, he also received, quite anonymously, a box of Collector's Edition, 1789 batch, Lemon Drops. He tried a few, and they were delicious. He kept the box safely in storage, still full, and decided to order his own stash of lemon drops, silently thanking his mysterious benefactor for the discovery of their sweet deliciousness.

When exploring the castle one night, Harry makes an unexpected discovery. In an empty room, sits a mirror. A mirror like no other. It showed Blaise his mother and late father, both alive and happy, hugging him and each other, the picture of a perfect family. He did not elaborate further. It showed Daphne herself, only much older, and she instinctively knew that all the world admired her for her accomplishments.

Harry himself saw what could only be himself. But he almost did not recognize that person. He looked like an adult, and basically nothing like he was now. He was dressed in impeccable muggle clothing, the kind that he knew was impossibly expensive, and his wand was lazily floating in circles around his hand. He exuded an air of confidence and, for lack of a better word, power. He represented everything Harry wished he could be. Confident, rich, powerful._ In control_. The kind of man who could deal with everything that fate could possibly throw at him and come out on top.

On his fourth night in front of the mirror, he was found by the Headmaster, who informed him that the mirror would be moved, soon.

But that was okay. Harry had all he needed from it. He now knew what he wanted to be, what he wanted to do with his life. All that was left was to work for it.

All went to shit near the end of the year. Through a dizzying investigative effort on their part, the four of them found themselves attempting to save the Philosopher's Stone from professor Quirrell. As professor Dumbledore was away, and professor Snape was nowhere to be found, the four resolved to attempt to stop and/or stall Quirrell, themselves. Theodore would rush to the owlery to send a message to the headmaster while the rest of them headed to the third floor.

The fire crabs, Harry could deal with, through a combination of third year Charms work and fourth year Transfiguration. The Venomous Tentaculas nearly got them, but Daphne's quick wandwork saved them. Most of them, at least, as Blaise lost all feeling on his left arm from the poison. The maze gave them more trouble than it should, but planned, coordinated moves on their parts saw them through it. Daphne was the best at chess, but even still, she and Blaise had to be sacrificed in order for Harry to go through, which he reluctantly did after making sure they were okay.

Thanking whatever gods were looking down on him favorably, he gingerly stepped past the three unconscious trolls of the next room.

That was the first time he confronted Voldemort. There, on the back of Quirrell's head, was the reason for all his years of loneliness. He spouted some drivel about power and urged Harry to join him, if he would only help him retrieve the stone.

Harry ignored him. He didn't need a dead man to tell him how to go through life. He already had ambitions of his own.

Unfortunately, even his advanced spellwork was no match for Quirrell, a fully-trained wizard. Thankfully, Quirrell brought him close enough and made the mistake of touching him. Upon realizing that his touch burned the possessed man, Harry grabbed onto him with all he had, not letting go until he was not holding anything anymore and had ash escaping his fingers.

He woke up days later, in the hospital wing. Rufus was sleeping on his bed, unsurprisingly, but the headmaster was sitting next to him, surprisingly. The headmaster explained what had happened to him, and the reason for the pile of sweets next to his bed.

Harry sighed, lamenting the fact that no one had thought to send him lemon drops.

"As it happens, Harry," the headmaster said with a smile, "I do seem to carry some with me."

Harry happily accepted the sweet, wondering how the headmaster could possibly have known about his love for Lemon Drops.

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><p><strong>FIN YEAR 1<strong>

**~H~**


	2. Year 2

**.**

**I Needn't See the Light to Chase It**

**YEAR 2**

**~A Harry Potter Adventure~**

**`~H~**

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><p>Summer vacations do not go very well for Harry. Upon returning to Privet Drive, it was obvious that whatever fear of God professor Mcgonagall had instilled in his relatives was long since flushed out. His aunt, damn her to hell, seemed well aware that his lack of owl meant inability to send messages of his own volition. With that knowledge, she and uncle Vernon locked all his things in the cupboard and proceeded to lock him in his room.<p>

Literally. He would receive food, thankfully of adequate quantity, if not quality, at meal times through a cat-flap. Which was extra insulting because Rufus could come and go as he pleased. Thankfully, his feline companion preferred to keep him company, or just laze around the room.

He could still receive letters through his window, thankfully. He waited until his friends sent him letters, then replied with details of his situation.

Unfortunately for him, the incoming owls were noticed by his uncle, who proceeded to bolt his window shut. Harry watched, unable to do anything, as his friends' owls pecked ineffectually at the window, before giving up and returning whence they came.

He surrendered himself to a summer of boredom until a teacher noticed his absence in September the first, and got to re-reading his first year textbooks, if only to stem the boredom, and imagining creative ways with which to get back at the Dursleys in between attempts to get Rufus to not be such a lazy bastard.

However, salvation came long before he expected it to.

One day, about two weeks since his last missive to his friends, h heard commotion from below. Uncle Vernon's angry shouts, followed by his aunt's shrill shriek, followed by blessed silence.

Having stuck his ear to the door, Harry easily heard Daphne's voice calling his name.

"In here!" He shouted back. Immediately, he heard steps run up the stairs, so he took a few steps back from the door.

"Alohomora" He heard a male voice incant, before the door clicked open by its own volition. Through it, Harry could see an adult man, well into his fifties, towering over Daphne by a good three heads.

"Hi Harry." His friend greeted. "We came to get you." Harry, who couldn't quite contain his grin of enthusiasm, rushed and hugged her, eliciting a surprised squawk, before she hugged him back.

A throat being loudly cleared interrupted them, and Harry let go of Daphne to look at the older man. He resembled her, faintly.

"Harry, this is my father, Winston Greengrass."

Harry blushed in embarrassment, stammering a greeting. Winston laughed before shaking his hand strongly and introducing himself. He explained that Daphne had told him of what happened to Harry and that they had both grown worried when her letters returned unopened. When they had contacted Harry's other friends and heard the same, they resolved to come check the situation out.

Good thing, too.

Going bellow, Harry saw his aunt and uncle, slumped on the hall, unmoving. He would have been disturbed if he couldn't see them visibly breathe.

"What happened to them?"

"They're Stunned." Winston explained. "Should come to in a few hours. Or with a good slap." That was enough for Harry, and the three of them gathered his things and left Privet Drive. Winston drove them to their house in London, and Harry was a little embarrassed to ask why such a prominent wizarding family knew what a car was, never mind driving one.

Harry happily accepted Daphne's offer to stay with her. While in their home, a decently sized suburban house with two floors, Harry got to meet Daphne's mother, Ophelia, and kid sister, Astoria, who was not yet old enough for Hogwarts. Harry and Astoria hit it off, as the little girl dragged him around excitedly to play this or that and he comes along, much to Daphne's amusement. The elder Greengrass sister took these opportunities to have Rufus all to herself. Harry gave her a stern lecture regarding who exactly owned Rufus, and warned her away from whatever dastardly plot she was preparing.

They met up with Blaise and Theodore in Diagon Alley, and gathered their supplies. Apparently there was some kind of author's signing on the bookshop, so it was decided that only one person would go in, grab what they needed, and come back out. Blaise was decided as the unlucky person to wait in the line, as the rest of them went through the rest of their shopping list.

Harry's summer passed dazzlingly fast, and he couldn't believe the fun time he was having. A party was thrown in his honor on the Greengrass home, to celebrate his birthday. All of Harry's friends and acquaintances were invited. Cedric and his friends, some Ravenclaws Harry was friendly with, most of second year Slytherin, and some Gryffindors Harry knew personally from first year.

During the party, Malfoy could not help but announce that his father had agreed to take up the Defense against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts, and proceeded to explain how that old man Dumbledore must have finally come to his senses, and how he mustn't be such a senile old bat, after all. On closer question, Draco admitted to not knowing the details pertaining his father's new employment, as he wasn't let in on the fact until after it was decided.

Regardless of mr Malfoy's new job, Harry had a blast on his birthday. The guest room he was living in had to be magically enlarged to fit all his presents. The highlight of the night must have definitely been when, well after the party was over and almost everyone had left, Daphne walked up to him, gave him her present, followed by a lightning fast peck on the cheek before bolting out of the room.

Girls were weird, Harry decided. But in a good way, maybe.

September arrived, the newly minted second years arrived at Hogwarts after a quiet train ride, enjoyed the opening feast, and classes began.

Professor Malfoy was a surprisingly decent teacher. He allowed no nonsense or misbehavior, and seemed to know his stuff. Occasionally, he would indulge on long-winded tirades about this or that aspect of the dark arts, but then seem to remember where he was and proceed on an equally long diatribe on why the Dark Arts are bad, to be avoided, illegal, etc etc.

Having studied some recent history, Harry was well aware that the senior Malfoy was a former Death Eater, released under claims of Imperius manipulation. He also knew that he and Dumbledore never saw eye to eye, considering they'd been on opposite sides of battlefields a few years ago.

Still, he realized that he couldn't possibly know what goes on in the background, so he resolved to focus on his own business.

That being, learning. Above and beyond studying, Harry vividly remembered what he saw in that Mirror, last year, and his vow to himself. To become that man, he needs to be able to use magic to an unprecedented level. That is why he threw himself at his studies like a man possessed, dragging his friends, kicking and screaming, into similar fits of academic fervor.

He gave little mind to the growing rumors regarding this alleged Chamber of Secrets. Despite some vandalism on the walls or a frozen cat, he had better things to worry about.

His single-minded determination is exactly why he was so surprised when Halloween struck again. In some corner of the dungeons, the inert and frozen body of Draco Malfoy is discovered. Professor Snape is immediately called, as are the rest of the staff. Soon, the area is cordoned off. An investigation ensues, with a grief-striken professor Malfoy at its helm, but the petrification confuses the student body that had so far been buzzing about the Chamber of Secrets. After all, the Heir was supposed to go after the muggleborns, right? Then why attack such a prominent pureblood such as Malfoy?

Regardless of the why, this attack on the Malfoy scion led the eldest Malfoy into mood swings of either crushing despair or unbridled fury. When not stonily directing his classes, he was enacting furious searches all over the castle and questioning people for possible suspects. Harry himself had been suspected, and answered truthfully to all questions. Thankfully, the elder Malfoy seemed to write him off his list very quickly, knowing that he and Draco were on friendly terms, and moved on.

In the midst of all this, Harry had finally managed to land his much coveted Seeker position on the Slytherin Quidditch team, though the recent petrification seemed to suck all the joy out of the game.

Things seemed to have stabilized in the coming weeks. Harry should have known, really, that such peace was only a delusion and about to be shattered into a million tiny pieces.

It was the second Quidditch game of his career, and he was well on his way to winning, too. His trusty Nimbus 2001, his birthday present from Malfoy himself, was sure enough giving him the edge he didn't really need against the Gryffindor seeker, and he was just outstretching his hand to catch the snitch.

The moment his fingers closed around the snitch, he couldn't see. He couldn't describe it in any other way, his vision was gone. And not the blurry kind of grey that one got when one closed their eyes, either. Rather, it was complete and utter darkness, like he no longer had any eyes at all, or was not born with the ability to see.

The elation over the victory was enough to stem the panic attack that threatened to grip him, and he directed his broom slowly downwards until he reached the ground. Amid the thunderous cheers of the Slytherin team and their housemates, it took Harry a good while to get anyone to listen to him. When his friends heard him, however, he was swiftly removed the festivities and rushed to the hospital wing, professor Snape not too far behind.

Harry decided that since everyone else around him was panicking, he should be the one with the level head, so he kept his calm, even through madame Pomfrey's numerous spells and potions.

In the end, professor Dumbledore himself arrived. He, too, directed his wand at Harry, to no _visible _effect. He, professor Snape and madame Pomfrey had a hushed discussion in the matron's office that Harry couldn't hear.

In then end, all three came next to his bed. It was surreal to Harry, that he could not see them but he could tell they came merely by sound.

"It would appear, mister Potter," his head of house began, "that you've been hit with a rather nasty Blindness curse."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. No kidding, right?

"Can it be reversed, sir? Will I be alright?"

Professor Dumbledore interjected here. "I'm afraid, mister Potter, that the nature of the curse is unknown even to me. It resists all conventional efforts to reverse it.

Harry didn't like the sound of that.

"Sir? What will happen to me?"

"In time, and with enough study, I am sure a cure can be found. For the immediate present, I fear, there is little we can do for you."

"So that's it, then? I'm blind?"

"If I may, Headmaster," Professor Snape interjected, "would you give me some time alone with mister Potter?"

Dumbledore gave him his best wishes and left the Hospital wing with the matron.

Dread filled Harry. Professor Snape had never been anything but professional with him, but his reputation was rather well-known.

"Potter," His head of house began, tone firm "I do not deny that what happened to you is unfortunate. However, that is no excuse for you to whine about your lot in life."

"With all due respect, sir, but I'm _blind_ now."

"So? You're not the first, nor will you be the last, to have lost his vision. It is not a debilitating injury. In time, perhaps you will regain your vision. In the meantime, I suggest you pull yourself together and find a way to operate normally. There are many spells and ways for someone without vision to not be disadvantaged. I suggest you and your little friends look them up. I'm warning you, however. I will not suffer a crybaby in my House. Am I understood?"

Harry swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

He heard the man rise and walk away.

"Thank you, professor." He managed to say before the door was closed.

The next day, Harry was discharged. His friends were understandably rather distressed over the news that he was now, and for the foreseeable future, blind.

Living without vision was a completely new experience. First of all, he always needed a friend nearby to help him go places, not get lost, and not trip on stairs. He had to look up spells that allowed him to read a book without seeing it. Not an easy feat, and until he learned how to cast them someone had to read to him. All in all, Harry felt rather like a baby, needing to be taken care of, and he hated it.

He needed help with everything. Everything. He couldn't eat by himself, the bathrooms were dangerous despite the safety charms, he had trouble finding, never mind wearing, his clothes, and he couldn't even cast spells since he couldn't see the target unless someone helped him point his wand in the right direction.

Hadn't he resolved to be strong, independent, and powerful? How was he supposed to be that, when he needed help not to walk into walls?

His blindness was known by everyone well before he was discharged. It seemed to be treated like another of the Heir's attacks, which personally made no sense to Harry. He received dozens of well-wish cards ad many awkward pep-talks. At first, it felt uplifting to known his friends, acquaintances, and even random strangers, stood by him, but as days wore on it grew more and more irritating.

With the loss of his Quidditch spot, he was left with plenty of free time to work out how to do things. Slowly and methodically, he learned how to live without his vision. The proximity spell that allowed him to sense walls and even some solid objects was becoming progressively easier to control. As weeks passed, he found himself less inclined to see, and losing that sense of panic when he woke up and couldn't see anything. Very slowly, he needed less and less help with things. To his immense relief, he could soon go to the bathroom by himself, though he was annoyed by the fact that he still needed help eating, a task which Daphne was all too glad to help him with.

He learned the power of touch. He learned how to recognize things by touching them, or hearing them. His hands were usually outstretched, fiddling with something, following a wall, or trying to assimilate a book with one of the hardest spells he had learned to date.

The first time he touched Daphne's face, both were feeling rather awkward, but Harry could not help but smile as he connected what he felt with his fingers to what he remembered of his friends' face. His other two friends, being guys, did not react outwardly, but instead limited themselves to their usual encouragements.

In all, if Harry hadn't had his friends to support him, he is certain that he would have slipped to rather dark place, mentally. As it were, he slowly managed to deal, and his blindness became yesterday's news to everyone as life at Hogwarts returned to normal.

Or, as close to normal as can be, anyway. A student discovered a House Elf, petrified in much the same way the Malfoy heir had been, and immediately reported it. Professor Malfoy recognized the Elf as his own. Now the rumor among the students was that the Heir was somehow displeased with the Malfoy family and was striking out at them. That made little sense to Harry, who knew full well that professor Malfoy and his wife were in perfect health and would have been much more preferred targets if that were true.

A few months after the house elf was found, another student was petrified. A first year, Luna Lovegood. Harry had only seen her very briefly along the halls. There was very little sense in the Heir's victims, if he were indeed the perpetrator.

Harry did not much care about the rumors, or even the now frantic state of the castle and the Ministry threats of closing it down. He was working, as hard as he ever had, to overcome the drawbacks of his blindness. He could now, with the rest of his senses, get a sense of placement. Not exactly visualization, per se, but a sense of knowledge of what existed around him. The spells to achieve that were hard, and he had the constant support of Madame Pomfrey and several experts from Snt Mungo's. He could not describe his enhanced sense in a satisfactory way. It was one of those things that one had to feel to understand. One of the experts, a Healer Murphy, was an ex-Auror who had been hit with a Dark Curse and lost her vision. She had decided to turn to Healing, since her Auror career was effectively over. She was a huge help in Harry's coping process.

His dream of power, and independence, did not look so faraway, any more. He could now go anywhere, and do almost anything that he could before, with little help from his friends. He could avoid crashing into people as he walked, and did not need help on the stairs any longer. He was not truly independent, at least not yet. He needed his friends, still. But perhaps counting on the to assist him was no a terrible thing.

He was beginning to forget what colors were like. Visualizing certain things was becoming harder than he remembered. He had to touch things more and more to remember their form. Vision was slowly leaving him, even in his memory. Had he really spent most of his life with the ability to see? It seemed strange.

Nowadays, he had done away with his glasses, and his eyes were always closed.

In a surprising turn of events that Harry could describe as nothing but 'Coup', he and his friends bore terrifying witness to the Minister and professor Malfoy all but sacking the Headmaster, and shipping the groundskeeper, Hagrid, to Azkaban.

Having learned of the history behind Hagrid's expulsion and wanting to figure out whether he truly knew what the monster was, Harry and his friends ventured into the Forbidden Forest, following the trail they often saw Hagrid take and knowing of the man's fascination with dangerous beasts.

Harry was told by his friends that vision inside the forest was all but gone, but it was all the same to him. Where they were now blind, his ears picked up everything around them, and his magical placement sense was going haywire.

In hindsight, going into the forest like that was a terrible idea. An acromantula forced them to split up, and Harry with Daphne ended up running for their lives, having lost all sense of direction.

Suddenly, Harry could not hear the skittering of the Acromantula behind them. Next to him, Daphne had stilled.

"Daphne?" He called.

"Harry, there's something in front of us."

"Is it dangerous?"

"I ... I don't know."

Harry figured that if whatever it was had been dangerous, they wouldn't be talking about it. He could not hear, whatever it was, but he could feel a presence in front of them. Ever since he lost his vision, he'd began to feel slightly more attuned to magic. He could tell a magical painting from a normal one. He beginning to be able to sense magic.

The sense he got from the thing in front of him was ... contradictory? It felt very innocent, but at the same time aggressive, territorial.

He slowly reached a hand out. A snout met him halfway.

"It's a unicorn." Harry breathed in relief.

Many fairy tales went around about unicorns. The first myth that got dispelled when anyone looked them up was that the unicorns were aggressive against males and friendly towards females. For that matter, the virginity thing was a myth, too. Unicorns were innocent by nature, true. What they _could_ do, was sense morality. They were the stereotypical anti-dark creatures because they were aggresive against hostile, malicious creatures and friendly with innocent, happy, or simply _good _creatures.

That it had not bore them with its horn was proof enough that he liked them. Harry and Daphne placed a hand on the creature's side and allowed it to lead them to safety.

As it did, Harry heard the unicorn's voice inside his mind. He used the word voice, but it wasn't sound like human voice. It was more akin to a series of understandings, of images and facts that he knew came from his new friend. For example, he was informed that Blaise and Theodore were outside the forest by now, though Blaise had a broken leg, courtesy of a rather nasty trip.

The creature haunting Hogwarts was a Basilisk, he suddenly knew, the king of serpents. Harry was suddenly reminded that he could speak to snakes, but that had never come up before now. Suddenly, the weird whisperings that he'd been hearing along the halls made more sense.

He and his friends scramble against the clock to discover the entrance to the Chamber, with Professor Malfoy nowhere to be found and the heads of houses deep in discussion that none of them could interrupt.

Through a series of lucky breaks, the three of them (Blaise being confined to the Hospital Wing) found the entrance and went in. Unfortunately, Harry was separated from his friends when Daphne was knocked unconscious by a falling stone and Theodore stayed behind to take care of her. Being the most suited to proceed to the dark caves and with the ability to open the doors, Harry entered the Chamber of Secrets.

Revelation after revelation ensued. The Heir was none other than Lord Voldemort, acting through a magical diary. Said diary was in the nearly lifeless hands of one Terry Boot, second year Ravenclaw. Tom Riddle explained how poor Terry retrieved the diary from a bathroom, where its previous owner had thrown it, and proceeded to finish her work.

After their argument, Harry heard Riddle unleash the Basilisk. He did not lower his head in fear. The Basilisk's deadly gaze has no effect on him, something he suddenly thanked his blindness for.

He did, however, run like the deadliest snake in the world was after him. Which it was.

Every little bit of progress that Harry had made in regards to his blindness was suddenly priceless. He could run without tripping, weave between columns without crashing, and duck to avoid the snake's tail without seeing it.

Any spell he tried had no effect on the beast. What magic could he know that could hurt it? Nothing, that's what. Magic would not aid him.

At least, not directly.

Managing to outrun the Basilisk after having lost it in a series of tunnels, Harry ran back to the entrance. The Basilisk was hot on his heals when he reached the part where Daphne had been hurt. Thankfully, Theodore had taken her out of there.

The only really damaging spell he knew, the Bombarda, came really handy here. He slammed as many of it on the roof as he could. The fact that a rock had dropped had to mean that it was unstable, right?

As the Basilisk rushed at him and screeched, Harry was thankful that he could not see what must no doubt be a terrifying sight. Just in time, the roof gave, slamming what must have been tonnes of rock on the Basilisk. Taking an adjacent tunnel, Harry returned to the Chamber.

There, Riddle spat and seethed ineffectually. Harry ignored the transparent ghost, pocketed the Diary, shouldered the unconscious Terry, and headed out. As he left, Riddle vanished, no doubt back into the Diary. Harry could feel Terry's breath weaking, and tried to go as fast as he could.

With a lot of trouble and many floating spells, he managed to bring Terry outside the staff room.

After five minutes of insistent knocking and equally insistent ignoring of the teachers telling him to go away, someone opened.

Professor Mcgonagall opened, looking livid and about to tear his head off, before she froze. He made for quite a sight, no doubt, with his clothes torn and full of dust and mud, Terry slung over his back and diary clutched in a deathly grip.

It took half an hour until he explained what happened. When he did, professor Snape immediately grabbed the diary and rushed off the room, presumably to destroy it. Half an hour minutes later, some color had returned to Terry's cheeks and he breathed easier, no doubt the result of the professor's success.

That night, Harry went to an exhausted sleep on the hospital wing, ironically next to his also hospitalized friends.

The next day, professor Dumbledore's reinstatement, professor Malfoy's removal and the groundskeeper's release were all announced. The mandrakes were almost ready to heal the petrified people, and the Chamber was closed for good.

Most importantly, Harry had proven to himself that even though he was now blind, his dreams of power were not unreachable.

**~H~**


End file.
